


Leftovers

by SleepingwithWolves



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Bran is a cinnimon roll, F/M, Hiatus!!!, Sansa gets visions and she's scared shitless, Slow Burn, Time Travel, basically just a stark show, but aged up a bit, but not really, enter Jon, he's a moody teen, its on haitus guyss, sorry - Freeform, sort of!, very very slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 04:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26347201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingwithWolves/pseuds/SleepingwithWolves
Summary: Sansa has always been a good girl and a perfect lady.Everyone said so.But she's too tired these days, to stay that way.-The main hall, despite being huge, is always well-lit. Even during the night, the moonlight casts everything in a deep blue haze. It always seems inviting, a little intimate as well. Jon doesn’t even know how to feel about being here. The tone, the silence, the slightly cold air, and the unfamiliarity of sharing the empty midnight view with Sansa, who stands there with her eyes blue and wide with a candle in hand, somewhat determined and a little afraid, all leave him slightly uncomfortable.Sansa takes a deep breath. “I want you to know, that I don’t really know what’s going on.”(Hiatus)
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 188
Kudos: 297





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd left writing entirely. My depression hit me too hard but I'm a lot better. The first chapter is basically something that I wrote a long time ago. but I was going through my files and somehow inspiration struck and here I am. I have 10k of this written already. got a fairly good idea of where I'll be going with this so I'm confident that I'll be able to finish it.  
> it'll be my first multi-chapter story. kinda excited and a bit scared. 
> 
> Comment if you like it pls!

“I think Sansa is spying on us,” Jon never expected to say these words, but yet, here he was. It was finally time to address the red-haired shadow creeping behind pillars and hiding in the courtyard.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Robb chuckles and waves a dismissing hand, “She must have read something in one of her books, might be imagining some old joust while we spar. She’s been spending all her bloody time in the library. Even Mother mentioned it the other day.”

“Come on, let’s go to Wintertown,” Robb exclaims, Jon’s question already forgotten, as he pats Jon’s shoulders leading him ahead.

There’s only one thing that Robb has misjudged. Sansa isn’t spying on them.

She’s spying on _him_. He knows this for sure. She’s still there even when Robb or Theon are gone, out on some chores. And she tried to be there behind him, even when Jon’s off on his own, doing one thing or another. Whatever room or hall he is in, Sansa would be leaning against the entrance, pretending to be busy.

But he can feel her gaze, despite how hard she tries to hide it.

If he’s being perfectly honest with himself, Robb gave a good explanation. She might have read some bloody story about bastards being horrible and probably wants to compare. Or perhaps even the alternative though the thought of it seems like an amusing joke. Imagine, a bloody bastard as a knight? Jon can’t help but smile.

But for whatever reason, it just doesn’t sit well with him. There’s something more, and Jon can’t put a finger on it. He just wants to know _why_? At first, he had assumed it to have something to do with Arya. But, from what he can recall, the two sisters hadn’t even fought recently. Arya had complained about Sansa pretending to be “oh so mature” yet from what Jon can guess, after seeing one of their recent interactions, is that Sansa looks simply far too distracted to take any of Arya’s baits or drop some of her own.

It’s midday when the three of them come back, a guard in tow and slightly drunk and off base. Ser Rodrick chews them for their less than ideal footwork during practice but it’s mostly harmless and while Theon joins the one-sided conversation that Robb is having with Ser Rodrick, Jon starts picking up the fallen arrows to put them in their proper place when he notices her from the corner of his eyes, walking towards him.

He waits until she stands right in front of him, somewhat curious, as her fingers tangle together, and she fidgets biting her lips. “Do you need anything, Sansa?”

She looks up, and swallows.” Yes”. He quirks a brow in question and watches as Sansa collects her resolve and straightens her back. For a second, she looks absolutely frightened before taking a steady breath. “There’s something extremely important that I need to discuss privately with–“

“Shouldn’t you be with the Septa?” Robb cuts her off from behind him, letting out a fake gasp,” Are you missing your class?”

Sansa waves her hands, her face flustered at being caught.” No! I'm just... taking a gap.”

“Are you really?” Robb replies and, not believing her horrible lie at all, puts his arm around her neck. “Let’s see what the Septa has to say, right Jon?”

He gives off a small smile as an encouragement. Watches as Sansa glances at him, eyebrows pinched and Jon can't help but wonder at her words before she got cut off. 

_Privately_

Jon’s mind repeats. His curiosity takes him over. Whatever previous notions he had about Sansa’s odd behavior are gone entirely. Whatever it is, Jon knows, is something different. Or she wouldn't have bothered to try and talk to him.

* * *

* * *

Jon lingers in the main hall at night, waiting for her.

He had sat distracted by all the possibilities as the rest of his siblings ate and joked around. Even to a point that whatever Robb had whispered in his ear, Jon barely understood. Sansa ate quietly next to her mother. He had caught her glance once or twice, and the third time that Jon caught her staring at him, Sansa did not look away. Instead, she gave him an indescribable look. 

That look is why he was here.

Sansa, finally, walks in wearing her nightclothes - a long dress that hides even her toes - with a flower-shaped shawl draped on her shoulders. “You’re here,” she says softly.

Jon shrugs, “Well, you wanted to talk. What’s the matter, Sansa?”

Sansa looks away, “I don’t know.” 

The main hall, despite being huge, is always well-lit. Even during the night, the moonlight casts everything in a deep blue haze. It always seems inviting, a little intimate as well. Jon doesn’t even know how to feel about being here. The tone, the silence, the slightly cold air, and the unfamiliarity of sharing the empty midnight view with Sansa, who stands there with her eyes blue and wide with a candle in hand, somewhat determined and a little afraid, all leave him slightly uncomfortable. 

Sansa takes a deep breath. “I want you to know, that I don’t really know what’s going on.” She begins, “I need you to understand that.”

Jon blinks. _Understand that you don’t understand?_

“They’re not dreams,” she continues looking down at the ground, fisting her hands, “I mean, they are dreams but they’re not. It’s too real.” She looks up abruptly and Jon startles at her agonizing face. “They’re real and scary and painful.”

“Did you read something scary?” He asks, remembering Robb’s words from the morning about her increasingly obsessive reading habits.

“Before them? No, not at all.”

He bites his lips and scratches the back of his neck. “Have you talked to Father about your nightmares?”

“Of course, Not.” She pauses, “I told Mother at the start. I woke up screaming the first few times.” She tells him. He can remember a few weeks ago when Arya had taunted Sansa for being such a scared-cat during one their -what used to be usual- fights.

“But?” Jon prompts and Sansa shakes her head.

“We prayed. It didn’t work. Then I prayed to the old gods the next day, and it still didn’t work.” There’s a pause, hesitation on her face as clear as it can be in the moonlight. “ That’s not important.” She sighs, “Please don’t get angry.”

“Why would I get-“

“I think I saw your mother. I mean a woman who I think is your mother.”

Jon blinks. For a moment, he can’t think. There’s absolutely nothing that he can say.

“In one of the dreams, visions whatever they are. I saw a baby and – and father. And the woman – I mean your mother. It’s one of the- clearest memory in the dreams. He, father, looked very young and very sad and She was there saying a lot of things, telling the baby, you, that she loved you very mu-“

“Shut up.”

Sansa doesn’t stop her blabbering.

“No, you don’t understand. It shouldn’t be you but it is, looks exactly like you! And it doesn’t make sense because she’s in-“

“A brothel??”

Sansa takes a step back and Jon takes a step forward. “What.. No. That’s not-“

“Who put you up to this? Robb? Theon? Or was it some joke you cooked up yourself? That my mother is a whore? ”

“No, I never said that! Please listen - ”

He hears a ringing in his ears and when he takes quick steps towards Sansa, Jon doesn’t even notice when and how he got so close nor does he register the way she flinches under his stare. He reaches out and grips her arm tight. “Don’t you ever-“ he begins, voice foreign to his ears,” –say anything like this about my mother again.”

Whatever face Sansa makes, Jon’s too angry to notice. “Jon, I- “. He squeezes her arm.

“Do you understand?”

Sansa tries to twist her hand away, “Jon, I _never_ did. Please listen- “

“Do you understand?” he will not let her go until she says yes. And finally, when Sansa nods, her eyes wet with tears and face red and afraid does Jon let her go. “You’re fucking old enough to know better.” He says and walks away without a glance back.

_She loved you._

How dare she? Every part of him is in anger; it feels as if something is burning his insides. The ringing stays, getting louder with each step he takes until his vision blurs. Sansa wasn’t cruel. She was kind or tried to be kind even though her pleasant distant courtesies ingrained the fact that he was different from them all. Someone must have told her to do this. It had to be Robb or Theon. This was simply not who she was. Or who Jon thought she was. Did they put her up to it? Was it funny to all of them?

_She loved you._

Someone pats Jon’s back and he jerks off their hand. Who was it? Who? Who was calling his name, why couldn’t they stop, and why fuck was his head ringing?

_She loved you._

He needed to breathe. He needed to run.

So Jon did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, guys! I wasn't expecting much of a response. But, I'm glad that a lot of people found it interesting.

He does not sleep that night.

He does not join the rest of them as they break their fast.

Instead, he takes a sword and decimates the practice dummy. That’s where Jory finds him, amused and all, slaps Jon back playfully. “Not running off for a tantrum this time hm?” He laughs as Jon scowls. “Never really imagined a day where you’d have a fight with little Sansa.”

“I did _not_ have a fight.”

Jory waves a hand. “Of course, you didn’t.” He smiles and pitches Jon’s cheeks even though Jon tries to jerk away from his hand. He’s not a kid. “Look I didn’t hear what Sansa said that got you so mad. But, you’re the elder here, you know? What would your Father say if he saw how you got so out of control.”

Jon looks down.

_Nothing. He never says anything._

“When Sansa comes to apologize, you say okay, hm?”

Jon doesn’t reply.

Jon does, however, take his lessons with Robb and Bran and he can’t stop glaring towards the one and ignoring the other. And he can’t think.

There’s so much going on in his head. In his heart. As if someone is pressing his chest from both sides. There are moments when he tunes away from whatever Maester Luwin is saying, to stare at his shaking hands and he has to squeeze them into tight fists to stop his blurry eyes lest he gives Robb or Theon or whoever was behind Sansa’s stunt last night the satisfaction.

“What is the matter with you?” Robb asks innocently after the lesson. Some concern apparent on his face, but Jon can’t bring himself to respond so he brushes past his brother and doesn’t stop walking even when Robb follows him and calls out his name. “Why are you angry at me!? What did I do?”

Jon stops and looks at him. “Come on, Jon,” he pleads earnestly.

If it wasn’t Robb, then it must have been Theon. “Nothing.” He says and walks away. It doesn’t make sense for it to be Theon. Why would Sansa ever listen to him?

He can hear Robb sigh behind him, he does not hear him follow.

And just as he turns to a corner, he sees _her_.

_Fucking great._

The anger he felt last night flares up again. And its as if she can sense it from halfway across the hall, that Sansa positively looks as if she wants to run from guilt.

Well, good. She should feel guilty.

It wasn’t as if that was the worst he had ever heard about his mother. It was common to hear about who and what she is – was? how could he know? – it came with being a bastard.

_She loved you_

Jon wants to turn back the other way, but he doesn’t. Why should he? It should be Sansa unable to meet his eyes for what she did. So he takes fast, heavy steps to walk past her, expecting her to look down and step aside,

He doesn’t know how to react when she doesn’t move an inch but instead stands firmly in front of him.

He glares at her, but she doesn’t look away in shame or guilt. And something feels heavy in his chest, does Sansa not even care? She’s supposed to be his sister, they were never close. But that doesn’t mean that she shouldn’t care about how much she has hurt him.

“Jon, can you please-“

“Are you going to apologize?” he cuts her off, “If not, then don’t get in my-“

“I’m sorry.” She says immediately. And he doesn’t know what to say, because she looks genuinely sorry. “Please – “she grips at his arm with both her hands, “– I shouldn’t have just said what I said. I should have tried to explain it properly to you before talking about... about that. Please believe me, Jon.” her eyes wet with tears, and her cheeks flush red.

“You shouldn’t have spoken those things about my mother.” He says dumbly.

“And I never did! I can not bear the thought of you thinking that I said those horrible things about your mother. I would never, never say them.” Sansa presses his hand in between hers and holds it so tightly that he can see his fingers turn pale. “I never talked about a, a, a, _brothel_ -“ She shudders at the word, -“or, or the other thing either. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t! You know I wouldn’t.”

_No, you hadn’t. You said something worse._

Jon takes a shaky breath. While he doesn’t know what or who made Sansa do what she had done, he thinks back to the night before. He shouldn’t have reacted the way that he did. He had a right to reprimand her, but not that way. “I reacted far too harshly.” He says finally. “I am sorry for that. But, you shouldn’t have spoken to me about that topic. You have no right.”

She lets go and looks down in guilt. It does not make him feel satisfied at all. It just makes him feel bad.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to blindside you. I knew it to be a sensitive subject for you, I had no idea by how much.”

_Gods, this girl._

He presses his hand against his face. “Just don’t do it again,” he says.

Sansa glances up at him, her brows furrowed. “Jon, but I _must_ speak of it to you.”

Jon stares, he wants to take his head and do something along the lines of banging it in the wall. “Sansa!” he lets out a cry exasperated.

“Oh please, Jon! Please you must listen to me without thinking that I want to hurt you or that I mean to be cruel. It’s just that the dreams-“

“ I will not listen to you talking about that! For your stupid nightmares!”

She throws her hands in the air and screams, “They’re not just nightmares!!” 

For a moment, they stand silently. A few maids pass from around the hallway, a few of them giving him a judging him for making Sansa cry. _Lady Stark will hear of this_ , he thinks to himself while Sansa looks aside. She does not cry but she looks so sad that Jon wants to scream at himself.

“Alright.” She says finally, defeated. “I'm sorry for bothering you so much. I will not do it again.”

“ _Sansa_ ,”

She shakes her head, “You must be late for your lessons, the same as I, half brother.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the response! I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Sansa stops following him.

She’s not there with the sword’s lesson. Not when he’s pretending to study the portion that Maester Luwin assigned him, not anywhere.

He keeps looking over his shoulder, expecting a bundle of delicately tied and brushed red hair.

What is he doing?

Whatever nonsense Sansa has convinced herself of, Jon doesn’t need to be a part of it.

Nonsense. That’s all it was. It had to be.

But yet, when he walks past her in the hallway, right in front of Father’s door. Standing so still as if to gather her resolve, he can not help but call her out. She startles so badly that it makes him flush in apology.

“What are you doing?”

She glares at him. “Nothing.”

He lifts his chin and stares. Sansa stares back at him, glowering. “It’s about that, isn’t it?’ 

Sansa fists her hands, “Yes. And I shall talk to Father about it.”

He grips her wrist and pulls her towards one of the other hallways. His touch as light as a feather this time, enough so that she can pull her hand away but she does not protest. Jon stands still for a moment, trying desperately to think of words to say still holding her wrist. How can he make her understand? It wasn’t, it wasn’t fair.

“Do you know much I want to ask about my mo– “ he bites his lips. How much he wants to ask about her? To know about her? To Know anything? Besides those small moments, before he sleeps where he thinks of so often and so much that he can almost make out her face and her kind eyes, he has nothing of her. He doesn’t know her name.

He doesn’t even know if she cared.

What had Sansa said? Worse than anything he has ever heard about her. Worse than whore, or whatever other degrading words people could think to say about her. 

_She loved you._

Sansa’s hand blur. Jon blinks and presses his fingers against his eyes. She broke his heart with nothing but these simple words.

"Do you know how serious this is? It isn’t one of your stories. She – My mother isn’t one of your stories to joke about. And to talk to Father about her? Even I have never..”

She shakes her head and snatches her hand away. “I know it’s not a story! I can understand the difference, Jon.”

“They why?”

She steps back, “Why do you care?”

He blinks, confused.

“I have to try and talk to Father. Maybe they will stop then. So, for you, If this is one of my stories, why do you care? You made it clear that you don’t care. That you think I was lying or joking? So, why are you bothering me then? ”

Jon swallows his words. Whatever he wants to say, he can’t even taste it on his tongue. “ Why haven’t you talked to father yet?” he says instead.

As he thought, Sansa has no reply for him either.

* * *

It is unfair for him to feel so down about the whole matter with him and Sansa.

But the whole business was so messy and it left him feeling like shit for days.

He tries to hide it in front of everyone. Robb doesn’t notice, thank gods, not after Jon had made it clear his attitude the other day was for a lack of sleep. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d blame a girl,” he had said and winked.

Needless to say, Jon had nearly choked on his words.

If Theon noticed, he didn’t care enough to ask about it. which was to be expected.

Arya and Bran though. It’s surprising how observant both the kids can be at times.

Arya had sneaked off again from her lessons and joined the boys. He had been sitting on the bench waiting for Robb’s and Theon’s spar to end when Arya sat next to him to, talking about Jeyne Poole and the Septa when his mind wandered off towards Sansa. He wondered if she still had those nightmares. Wondered if she still saw his moth- the woman she mentioned. He knew the answer to be true. Sansa had looked so weak. With circles underneath her eyes, and she could scarcely finish her plate no matter what time it was, be the morning or at the night during dinner.

He knew that she hadn’t spoken to Father either.

It was a punch – a weak punch though he would never say it to Arya – that finally jolted him out of his reverie. “Not you too!” she cried out. “First Sansa and now you. This is so stupid.” And ran away.

“Little sister,” he tried calling for her back but she was after all Arya underfoot.

Bran hadn’t stormed off in anger though. During target practice, Bran had finally hit the target. The shot was off but at least the arrow was embedded into the target rather than sticking far off in a tree somewhere. And Jon had missed it. Robb had too, but he was too busy flirting with the serving maid to notice.

Bran had been so sad. “Why do you and Sansa have to be sad at the same time!” he muttered after Jon had kissed his cheeks in an apology.

“I’m not sad.” He replied with a frown. And Bran shook his head, “ You’re sadder and moodier than usual.”

“Usual?”

The kid nodded. “What about Sansa?” Jon couldn’t help but ask. And Bran looked down again, it was a difficult thing to see Bran sad. He was always the quickest to smile. “She isn’t reading me stories like she used to at night.

It was the last straw. Jon knew that he had to talk to Sansa and about her bloody nightmares for both their sakes. No matter how much he pretended, Jon could not say that he wasn’t concerned.

And, He is concerned. He has no problem admitting that. Its why he stayed after dinner so that she could talk to him about whatever it was that was bothering her.

It was why he calls out to her again just before everyone retired for the night. “I’ll wake up early,” he tells her softly. As close as he was to her the night before, blinded with the words she had said, ones that he always wanted to hear, and now he can see just how tired she looked. “ and will wait for you at the Godswood.”

Sansa’s face remains emotionless. It makes her look older than she was. Older than him even. Even though he is two years her senior. “There’s no need.” She replies.

“ Talk to me, Sansa. I’ll promise that I will listen this time.”

Her eyes flash, “I did try before.” she snaps and Jon feels a sharp pang of guilt. “I don’t need you to listen anymore, Half Brother.”

“I’ll wait for you still.” He tells her just as she turns to leave. “In the Godswood every morning until you come.” It was the least he can do, he thinks. He owned Sansa that at least. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, this explains why Jon was acting so immaturely about the whole thing. He wasn't that angry because he thought Sansa called his mother those things, but rather was just using it as a cover of sorts.  
> Please tell me what you think in the comments!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! thank you all for your comments. I have limited internet now cuz my city being hit by an awful storm that's messing up everything but Thank you all so much for the support.  
> edit: fixed some grammar issues.

But Sansa did not bother. She did not even meet his eyes during their shared meals.

She gave him nothing. No matter how much he tried.

Before Jon had never noticed just how they both would hardly ever meet but now, that he was desperately trying to catch her eyes, he realized just how little the opportunities to do so were.

It was a day after when Lord Stark called him up in his chambers. Jon was right when he thought his fight would have gotten back to Lady Stark. “What is the matter? Why were the two of you having a screaming match right in front of my door?”

He squeezed his knuckles. His mouth dry as if he hasn’t had water in days. “Nothing, Lord Stark.”

Father sat in his chair and looked at him brows raised and let out a laugh. “It must be something. Forgive me, but Catelyn is very worried about Sansa. She will not let this go. Your sister isn’t feeling well as you might have seen.” Jon nodded, “And the fight between you two is just –“ Lord Stark made a gesture, “ – not something that happens every day you know.”

“She was just pestering me about–“ _About the woman, you haven’t bothered to tell me a single word of_ – “- a book, she couldn’t find. I got irritated. It was all my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

It was enough for Father. He let out a blithesome smile. “She can get quite insistent when she’s after something.” Jon did smile at that.

It’s part of the reason why even after five days of having that conversation with Sansa, five days of her avoiding even his shadow, and five days of sitting and freezing his ass, he is still walking to the Godswood again. Sansa wasn’t insistent, like the way she could be at times when she needed things to happen in a certain way to fit into her ideas of romantic grandeur.

Sansa was terrified. So scared that she reached out to him and he only frightened her in return. 

He knows that Sansa isn’t likely to come. He can’t blame her for it.

Yet, for whatever reason, he also can not stop himself from waiting for her.

It surprises him how much this entire matter has taken ahold of himself. He has forgotten everything, the Night's Watch included. It’s all he can think of these days. _They’re not just nightmares,_ Sansa had said. if not what were they then? What else could they be?

He hurdles close to himself sits by the tree and closes his eyes.

He hears Sansa before he sees her.

The rustle of footsteps on fallen leaves. Her sigh and intake of breath.

When Jon opens his eyes, she’s there, standing a few steps away, her hands joined together. She’s wearing her pretty yellow dress that brings out her eyes and Jon has never been more happier to see her.

Slowly, he gets up. Watching as she follows his movement with her eyes and lets out a breath he did not know he was holding.

“You’re here,” he says.

She gives him a radiant smile. “So are you.”

“So I am.” He replies dumbly with a smile.

Jon can not look away from her. Was he this doubtful that she would come? He wondered if Sansa felt the same. Did she expect an empty Godswoods? His words to be a lie? Had the fear of disappointment kept her away?

Sansa moves slowly and sits on a bench across his. Only then does Jon sit down again and waits for her to speak. She doesn’t. not for a while. All she can do is stare at her fingers in her lap. So Jon instead looks at her, at her dark circles underneath her eyes, at her hair shine less, her sharp hollowed-out cheeks. In the bright light of the morning sun, he takes all of that and more and before he can stop himself, he says “You look so much worse.”

She glances up, “That’s a horrible thing to say to a lady, Jon.” she says and gives him a small smile that eases his worries over offending her too gravely. He can't help but smile back, “Doesn’t make it less true.”

Sansa sighs, “No it doesn’t. Even Father asked me about my health. I must surely look far worse than you think.”

He doesn’t pry in the comment further. “ Everyone is worried,” he lets her know. “ especially Bran.”

Blinking, she asks, “Bran?”

“Hm –“ Jon stretches out a leg as he replies, “ – Because I am a horrible bedtime storyteller.”

Sansa lets out a chuckle. “No, that can't be true.”

Jon shakes his head, “No, it is! He was bored the other day when I was reading him tales of the old heroes.”

“That’s one his favorites!” she gasps

“I know! When I asked him why he simply told me ‘ Sansa is a much better reader than you. You make everything sound dull’. Never have I ever felt that I failed as a brother before. To think I would bore Bran out of loving stories of knights!”

She lets out a loud laugh. It shakes him slightly. Jon has not heard Sansa laugh in while. It always has been a pretty thing that makes him grin and tugs at his heart.

“If only you can bore him out of climbing.”

He shakes his head, “If only.” And watches Sansa as the smile slowly drops from her face. she takes a long breath. “I wish I could read to him again. but I am so tired these days.” She whispers.

Jon feels his smile drop too.” Are the nightmares worse?” Even though he knows the answer, it still worries him when she nods.

The dejected face she makes breaks his heart. He reaches out and takes a hold of her hand. “I am so sorry I didn’t listen before, and that I got so angry,” he tells her sincerely. “I was, I wasn’t ready to hear you – hear anyone – talk about my mother. Forgive me?”

Sansa looks at him, at their joined hands, and back to him again. it makes Jon swallow. Almost makes him pull away. If it were anyone else, he would never have felt this sort of hesitation.

It is only with Sansa. 

She is his sister still. Half-Sister in truth more so than the others. It should not matter. Yet, he lets go of her hand still.

It is far too warm.

“I hadn’t exactly started from the right foot.” She finally says. “I should have started better and explained the situation more clearly before mentioning – “ she pauses looks up at him and swallows “ – her. But those things you thought I said about her -”

He cuts her off, "I know you never did. That you would never say those things. But I was too angry to care. I’m sorry." He swallows and leans back “Explain it to me now, Sansa. Everything. I’ll listen.”

“And will you believe me?” her eyes are wide, pleading. Jon can not look away. He does not want to look away.

_She loved you._

“I will.” He says firmly.

It is not a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it! comments are much appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally deleted the chapter XD   
> Thank you for all the comments! Hope you like Sansa's story time!

“It started a while ago.” Sansa starts, the wind swirls and for a moment, Jon remembers his Father telling him how no one could lie before the heart tree. “ I saw things, too fast to comprehend, too many at the same time. I only remembered how it felt. How they felt.”

“And how did they feel?”

“Horrifying.” She says, voice almost a whisper. “I can’t explain it, properly. It just seemed as if all the wrongs in the world had happened. And I could only scream. So, I did.”

“They have continued since then. Every night, I dream the same version of things or so I think. Somethings I can make out. Most, I can’t. I’m not even sure if I want to. I find myself thinking about them all the time, drawing it, feeling as if I’m back there again even though I just want to forget.” Sansa looks down, clenches her fist again and again with deep breaths. When she looks up, her face is pale.

 _From fear_ , he registers, _what did you see_?

“Do you believe me, Jon? Do you?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. But even then, there’s something he needs to know as soon as possible. “But, all of this, Sansa, why share it with me? Why not anyone else?”

“I did. I shared it with Mother.” Jon nods, no wonder he hadn’t heard a thing about her nightmares before. “The first few times, Mother told me they were only nightmares and to not focus on them too much.”

“But?”

“Then I told her about the few visions I saw. And I could see it clearly, her fear. Mother thought it to be an omen of kinds and we prayed together in the sept to the new gods. And I would come here alone to pray to the old ones too.” Sansa sighs. “When the dreams didn’t stop, she started to get more and more worried. I don’t want the dreams to be a sign from the gods even though I know, what else could they be? And, I don’t want to bother her either. So, I – “ she looks away sheepishly, “ - Lied. Told her that the dreams ended.”

Jon frowned. “I don’t think your mother believes you.”

“I don’t think so either. I haven’t exactly done a great job of pretending that they’re over, have I?”

Despite everything, Jon smiles. “No, you haven’t. But, Sansa, why tell me?”

“Because who else could that baby be?” she tells him hesitantly. “Maybe if I tell you about this, the dreams might go away. It’s the clearest memory I have. Of that room. If I tell you, if I talk about it, maybe it will end. I tried to talk to Father. But I couldn’t. Besides him, I couldn’t talk about that woman with Mother nor with anyone else. You were the only one.”

Jon swallows and leans ahead, resting his arms on his thighs. “Alright, tell me, It’s okay.”

“In one of the visions, Father is there sitting next to a woman’s bed – “ Jon squeezes his hands together “ she’s .. dying” He looks up. 

“She’s dying and bleeding and apologizing. I think. It all went too quickly. And father, he’s crying and he’s holding yo- a babe in his arms. I saw him sob because she’s hurt.”

If he squeezes his eyes tight enough, he can almost see it even though it seems so hard to believe. Ned Stark sobbing next to a dying woman. He feels Sansa hand on him, and when he looks up, she is looking at him, mouth pressed together and eyebrows furrowed in naked concern.

He can’t help but to take her hand in his and squeeze back.

“How –“his voice wavers and he coughs to try again. Dying, _his mother was dying_. “ – How do you know its father? You said the visions went too fast to comprehend?”

“They do.” She replies, “But I have been seeing this among others so many times that I know for sure.”

He nods. “And you think the babe is me?”

“The babe has the same look as Father. Like Arya. Like you.” 

“Is that all?”

She nods and bites her lips, “It seems so insignificant now that I say it out loud.” Jon says nothing back. His thoughts run far too fast for him to follow. Parts of him wants nothing but to laugh and walk away think it all to be a crude joke.

The other part of him wants to desperately shake her, fall on his knees, begging her to remember more.

“Jon...” Sansa says and he jolts at the sound of her voice. “Are you angry?”

He shakes his head and tries to smile. It doesn’t work, he can tell from the look on her face, and Jon sighs because – because he feels as if he can’t really swallow. _My mother is dead_ , he wants to screams. “ It’s not insignificant.” He says instead. Because it’s not. Seeing Father with another woman and a baby who looks like him. What else could she conclude?

“Jon…”

He does not want to believe. Sansa must have dreamt it up. Imagined it. And then lingered on the horrible trail of thought like scrapping a healing wound over and over again until it bleeds. 

_She has always been dead_.

He wants to cry. “I’m alright.” He forces himself to smile this time and Sansa, Sansa says nothing. She reaches out and brushes her fingers against his checks. Her skin glitters from his tears. _When did I?_ “Jon..” Gods, her voice. How could he not cry when she says his name like that?

“I have – have to go.”

“Okay.”

“It’s late and I.. I’m needed elsewhere.”

She nods, looks down as he scrambles back on his feet and away. “Okay”

“I hope this helps you.” He says and turns away. “I hope that your nightmare ends now.”

“Jon?” He stops, “I’m so sorry about her.” Sansa says finally and gods, his heart. Can someone stop his fucking heart? “Thank you for everything.”

He nods and nods. “Sansa? Did she –“ hand on his heart, it feels like someone is killing him slowly. “ – did she have kind eyes?”

Sansa doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Im not sure, Jon. Everything was so fast. I didn’t see her properly. But yes, I think, she did have sad kind eyes.”

His shoulders shake for a moment, he hears the rustling of her feet as she gets up and he knows that if she touches him, to hold or hug, he will break.

So, he walks away as fast as he can.

Not towards Winterfell but somewhere else.

He doesn’t know if what Sansa saw is the truth. But she believes it. She was honest and sincere. And if, _if_ she’s right. Then he has always had a mother to mourn.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a very very small chapter but the next one is gonna be big so I needed something in between. Hope you guys like it!

He had stayed at the outskirts of WinterTown, had watched little kids playing around with sticks, and as the sunset, heard them yield to the calls their parents made, telling them to come back home again. Jon had almost gotten up several times to rush to Father’s chambers, to demand answers. To demand the truth. A yes or no which could confirm what Sansa had told him.

Yet, each time his courage failed him.

When he comes back, it is right after dinner.

Almost all the kids have been sent to their room to sleep. Which is a blessing because then they wouldn’t look at his puffy red eyes. Except for Theon Fucking Greyjoy. 

Theon lets out a whistle and a mocking laugh. “Aww, did little baby _bastard_ got hurt?”

“Say that again, and we can test whether you’ll rise stronger after I snap your neck.”

“Oh yeah?” Theon steps up closer, “ I’ll just give you another reason to cry – “

A hand comes between him and Theon and pushes them away. Robb’s face is grave but he out a fake grin. “Don’t be babies, you too. Bran and Rickon behave better.”

Theon shrugs and leaves.

“Where were you? I looked all over.” Jon shakes his head, not trusting his voice to speak. “What happened?” Robb probes.

“I fell.” 

“Did you get hurt badly?”

He squeezes his fingers together and blinks a few times. “Yeah.”

* * *

The food was still out on the table like Robb said with Lady Stark and Sansa sit in the room. His brother had all but forced him to go in the hall to eat something and even though Lady Stark’s questioning gaze makes him want to run, Jon still stays and finishes quickly.

All the while he can hear her voice, letting Sansa know that in no terms was Sansa allowed to leave until she finished her plate. Jon has spent far too much time with Arya to understand that Lady Stark wasn’t going to let Sansa negotiate. As he leaves, Jon gives Sansa a quick smile. He forces himself to do so, but the girl had looked too concerned and worried for his sake.

He did not want her to worry, he didn’t want her to think that he was angry.

Jon wasn’t. Isn’t. Angry at Sansa. She had not lied. He knows earnestly.

Had the old gods taken pity on his soul? Pity on his cowardness for not ever asking Father to tell him anything about his mother? Some bane for his heart and to let him know that whoever she was, she died telling him that she loved him. 

He presses his hand against his mouth, bites his fingers to stop himself from screaming. If it was real, she loved him. She loved him.

_My mother loved me._

Sansa said that his mother had been crying. He would have wiped her tears away, kissed them away. He would have saved her.

Was she scared to go? Scared to die?

Jon would have held her hand if she was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have hit the wall with something here. personally I don't want to write in Sansa's pov cuz it will show too much even tho she is the pov I am the most comfortable writing. but on the other hand, Jon is way too much in the dark for some of the things I want to show. Ugh.. I might choose Catelyn idk. But Jon's Pov isn't going to stay for much longer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I saw someone celebrate them reaching 200 kudos and I did not know that it was a thing you could do. SOOOO Thank you All seriously for liking and commenting it! I can't explain how nervous I was posting the story and how much I believed that people wouldn't like it. so it means a lot. A lot.   
> So this is the chapter where Im going to start picking up the pace. the turning point kinda. Hope you like it!

Jon tries to laugh a bit more. There’s a lot he does.

He plays with Arya and Bran like he’s a 12-year-old boy. Puts Rickon on his shoulders and grips his hand as he runs around as fast as he can. Then, Arya climbs up too and he tries to juggle them both but they fall and he is quick enough to grab baby Rickon but not Arya. She gets up and throws mud at his face and runs laughing, shirking away before he can react. By the time he leaves, Arya and Bran wrestle in the mud before they are pulled away from each other by the Septa and some guards.

He jokes with Robb. Beats Theon in a match with his wooden sword but loses to him in marksmanship. And while Theon tries his very best to pull him down, Jon is all armor and no cracks. 

But when Lord Stark calls him and Robb for their lessons, his heartaches still and he bites his tongue more time than he can count.

He does not ever meet Father’s eyes.

Then, then grabs his coins and goes out to the town where the newest caravan is settled and tries to find something Sansa would like.

It’s a book. About Aemon the Dragon Knight and his doomed love. And Jon knows how much Sansa loves the story. It has the prettiest of illustrations. Beautifully colored with some of the most prettiest writing that Jon has ever seen and the merchant milks it out for all that it’s worth.

But Jon’s happy as he leaves.

Unintentionally as it was, Sansa gave Jon something he has always wanted. More than anything. It’s the least he could do, to make her happy somewhat.

He grabs a pen and thinks of what to write. Nonsense like ‘good talk. Here’s a gift.’ Or ‘I always wanted to know anything about my mother and you told me. Thank you. Thank you for telling me that she loved me. Because I always thought she never cared.’

But it is too much. And he feels his cheeks flush.

In the end, he can only think of what she said.

 _I’m glad that I was the only one_ – J

He takes the book, leaves it in her room, right below her pillow.

It will be a surprise. And he knows in his heart, fluttering as it was, that she will love it.

He never gets to ask, though.

* * *

* * *

It starts with a light.

The light shines and she is in a field. Bright, so bright, the smell of rain lingering in the air and the grass under her feet moss and wet. Would that she remain so still for it to grow all over her cracks. Grows it does but it is water instead till her hair is so heavy and her breath so cold. But there’s no stopping it.

It starts with a light. And a bell and the sound of it ringing so gently by the wind.

She swims to it, the water so cold that it seeps into her bones as if they have turned into ice. The wind picks her skin like tiny needles but she swims still. One hand forward, a kick in the water. Fast. Faster. More, I have to hurry until she is beneath it. In it. Where am I? _This is not my place_ , she thinks unbidden. The weirwood tear cries out with a wail and it almost sounds impossibly like Mother. A terrible cry that could reach the heavens. Sansa covers her ears to no use. The tree is so big and the leaves so grand that they roof over the only horizon she can see, weighted down and dripping blood like rain. In the water, and on her face, sticking to her flesh like skin.

She is pulled, everything blurs as if she is riding on a sand steed, passing away too fast from the cold, from the dying old man huddled together in the snow, fire burning the sun, and ferocious beasts lying dead before she is in the room again. With the dead woman and son and her father, so impossibly young, whimpering and Sansa has to see more, to know her face. For what she can’t remember. What does the woman’s face look like?

There is a light. And a man who looks far too old then he should.

He holds her so gently that she could almost cry. “I'm so sorry.” He says, eyes wet with tears and oh no, she thinks, don’t cry. I dreamt of you before. You were smiling. “You shouldn’t be here.”

But she is. In the middle of the crowd. A thousand faces blurring together with the few she knows. “no..” horror fills her body, and she can’t breathe. Her heart thuds in her throat, something awful on her tongue. She turns but the man is lost, gone somewhere in the darkness. No matter how far she runs, she can not catch sight of him. A thud thunders between the shouts and the screams, footsteps the sound of which she knows by heart.

“Not here! Please! Please! Not here!!” the steps come closer, she can almost see now. “Please! Take me away! Not This! Please!”

It is Father who steps into the light. _No. no please no._

He falls on to his knees. His eyes, wide and hollow. And, and he looks so _weak_. All bones and no meat. Behind him stands a man, his face hooded with a dark cloak, eyes that glow red like rubies. She wants to rush to him. To snatch Ice away from the man’s hand and break away her father’s shackles. To take him and run away where she could tuck him in bed safe and sound.

She can not move.

The light is the sun shining on Ice. Her hand outstretched to hold it back, and a thousand miles away from her Father’s head. “Mercy!” She screams, at last, her throat raw. “Mercy! Joffery! Mercy!”

There is blood on her face and at the hem of her skirt. She screams. Father’s body jerks. His legs twitching in a dance.

And Sansa falls into the darkness, into water. 

It is where she stays. Fatherless, Alone and so cold. Her body shaking. She needs to run, she needs, she _needs_. Sansa stays still. She does not move a muscle. She can feel moss growing all over her skin. Her limbs turned and still like branches of a tree. Her heart beats in her chest, its all she can hear in the silence. Did her father’s heartbeat before it realized that he did not have a head? For how long? If she closes her eyes, will she see him again? 


	8. Hiatus - Sorry guys

Soooo hi guys!

Long time no see. I thought it would be better to let you guys know that I'm not sure whether I'll be continuing this or not.

The thing is, during the whole days where I got possessed into writing for this a lot, a very close relative of mine passed away. I've been struggling ever since. Things had been chaotic, a lot of people I'm close to and love got covid. And in that awful situation, I just stopped writing.

And now? Well, I've read what I wrote previously. It's about 5 or 6 chapters from where I last left off and I feel like it's shit. I hate it. I genuinely hate it. I've been staring at the word document just trying to think of ways where I could change it, improve it but I can't. I don't want to work on this story right now. I feel like I ended up associating the horribleness of the last few months with it.

So, _yeah_.

I'm really grateful that you guys read it and liked it, I don't want to say that I'll never come back to this. Hopefully, in time I can work on this so hence the hiatus and not an abandoned notice. I won't take more of your time. 

Hope you all can understand. Stay safe and best regards!


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